Dog Eat Dog [South]

[Eastern Orange]

Alina; The Shield
Freighter; The Protector
Morrigan; The Floozy
Trigger; The Bitch

I’m shaking my head the moment he starts speaking and purse my lips. “Hun, you are so ignorant.” I shake a finger at him. “You don’t know shit about Trogon and you have invested nothing. A few hours of your life does not count. All you have proven to me is that you will turn on her at the drop of a hat.” I raise my brows at him, challenging him to argue with me. I was perfectly right, wasn’t I? He can’t say that he didn’t pretty much just stab Trogon in her back just now.

“I’m sorry but a few dead family members are the least of Trogon’s problems. It might have been the start of them, but it certainly didn’t end there.” I snort, and shake my head. “You think you are some poor little boy alone in the world. But trust me you aren’t as tragic as you think you are. We have seen you through Trogon’s eyes. Those looks, that charisma, you will be just fine. You have already made so many friends at the group home. What does Trogon have? Nothing. You know what the kids think of her. She has truly been alone since...since.” I break off and look away. Freighter has not told me everything, but he has told me some of the story. He adamantly refuses to give me all the details…but honestly, I don’t think I want to know them all.

I turn around, stripping off my sweatshirt. “Don’t worry; I’m not flashing any boobs.” I say drily. With just my tank top on I immediately start shivering. I left the hem of the shirt up to show the small of my back and the pink puckered scars scattered across it in intricate patterns. I turn back around and pull up the left leg of my sweat pants up past my knee. More scars, but most were perfect circles. Cigarette burns. My hands are shaking slightly from anger, but my face is completely blank. I let the fabric fall back into place, hiding the scars away again, only to hold out my arms to show him the ugly rows of cuts on the inside of my upper arm. Now for the piéce de résistance. I arch my neck and sweep my hair back so he can see the irregular and jagged circles on my shoulder and neck, all the approximate size and shape of a mouth…

I fan my hair out covering the scars and give him a ‘wanna fight look’ look. “So. There’s that then.” I say flatly and cross my arms over my chest. “Still wanna think that Trogon would be better off knowing what happened her?” I curl my lip in disgust. “If you knew the stories behind these scars you wouldn’t be so quick to ‘invest’ yourself. Your pretty little head would explode from the sheer disgust and agony it wrought.” I shake my head. “Even I don’t know the whole story…and I…I.” I swallow and thrust my chin out. “There is nothing you can help her with. It would be pest if you just leave her alone.”

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[Deleted]

"I don't care what the others think about her! Do I seriously come across as that much of a shallow asshole?" I've decided that I really dislike Trigger. It's not that she's saying things that aren't true, it's that she's spitting the truth at me with absolutely no filter, and the impact of it stings much worse than the slap did.

I'm so irritated that I don't think about the words leaving my mouth, let alone consider the ramifications they might cause. "Because if that's who you think I am, you're wrong. I'm not trying to help Trogon to get anything out of it for myself. I want to help because..."

I trail off when I see the scars. They're everywhere, more and more of them cropping up as Trigger continues to show me spots I had never taken the time to notice. How did I not see the ones on her neck last night? They're huge, painful-looking. Her point made, she raises an eyebrow and snarls at me. " So. There’s that then. Still wanna think that Trogon would be better off knowing what happened her? If you knew the stories behind these scars you wouldn’t be so quick to ‘invest’ yourself. Your pretty little head would explode from the sheer disgust and agony it wrought. Even I don’t know the whole story…and I…I.”

She trails off and I actually feel a bit sorry for her. It seems that Trigger is almost as in-the-dark about the whole situation as I am. It would appear the Freighter's the only one who really knows the whole story, and today's events are proof enough that he isn't exactly going to pop up and have a comradely chat with me anytime soon. But any sympathy I may have had for her vanishes when she lashes out again. “There is nothing you can help her with. It would be best if you just leave her alone.”

"And you're the one calling me ignorant." I'm colder than I mean to be but she's struck a nerve in her attempted guilt trip and before I know it I'm turning my back to her and yanking my tee shirt up far enough to expose the angry red raised patches of burn scars that cover my torso. "Trogon isn't the only one with scars, physical or otherwise. Not as much of a pretty boy as you thought when you get under the surface, am I?"

And that's when it hits me, the real reason I've gravitated towards Trogon right from the get-go. It's not just because she's pretty or that I like to flirt and she presents a challenge. It goes way deeper than that. We're both broken, messed up, scarred people that have been hiding just how screwed up we are from everyone else for a long time. Well, actually I'm still hiding my story from her. I've mentioned Lydia a few times, sure, but that doesn't even begin to touch on the painful memories that make my scars tingle even thinking about them.

Sighing, I run my hands through my hair again, knitting my fingers together behind my head and looking up into the overcast sky. I have never, ever liked complicated things. It's not that I'm too dumb to handle them, but I've always had this craving for simplicity, for things to just be static and okay and everything that life hasn't been for six months now. But although this whole mess that I'm in is the farthest thing from simple, I find myself acknowledging the fact that I don't want out of it, because Trogon is stranded in the midst of this whirlwind with no one there to pull her out. And frankly, I'd rather have things be complicated with her than having them be simple without her.

"I don't know what you think my motives are, Trigger, but I'm going to be straight with you. I like Trogon. A lot. So much that it's kind of scary, actually." Admitting it to myself is almost as frightening as admitting it to her, but I keep pushing my way through the awkward speech because the words need to be said. "I really, genuinely care about her. And if that means I have to go toe to toe with you and Freighter and Morrigan every day from now until who knows when, then so be it, because I'm not backing out of this."

I don't remember moving towards her, but when I take notice I realize that we're only a few inches apart, staring each other down with a ferocity that is nowhere near typical to my pacifistic attitude. "With that said, I believe our conversation is over. Let's hope this will bring Trogon back, even though it'll probably get me smacked again."

Not even bothering to steel myself against the blow I know will inevitably come whether it's from Trogon or one of her alter-egos, I wrap my arms around her smaller form in a longer and more intimate version of the hug I gave her a few minutes ago. The realization that I actually like Trogon in this way is absolutely terrifying, not only because of all the shit I know I'm getting myself into but because I've never genuinely cared for someone outside of my family and Jessa (who is the closest thing to family I have left). She's come in and thrown off my emotional homeostasis and turned me into a bigger mess that I already am.

But when she's in my arms like this, I really can't say that I mind.

[Eastern Orange]

Alina; The Shield
Freighter; The Protector
Morrigan; The Floozy
Trigger; The Bitch

My lip pulls back into a snarl but before I can say anything he has his arms around me. I instantly go stiff, and then the shock wears off and I shove him away. “Sorry hon, doesn’t work that way.” I spit and heave a fist towards his face, knocking him on the chin. I grunt at the impact and pull my hand back quickly, clutching it. I think I broke a finger. “I leave when I have done my job, and trust me I obviously have not if you think that this a pissing contest to see who had a more shitty life, you or Trogon.”

I am pissed beyond words. Usually I can keep my temper and just lash out insults with cold efficiency...but this insolent brat. It felt as if he had just taken a cheese grater to every nerve in my body. I squeeze my fists…well at least my left hand, because my right one is swelling quite nicely right now. I want to punch him again, and again, and again, but I realize that I probably shouldn’t break anymore fingers…

I recognize the scars as burn scars. So he was stuck in a burning building? “Oh, poor Denver! Evil fire! Probably singled you out didn’t it?! Were you victimized by the evil sadistic fire?” I simper and pout. I know I’m not being fair, but I don’t really care, do I? “You really think that getting burned is on the same level as getting tortured and sexually assaulted by your own—“ I gasp, and my hands fly to cover my mouth, my sore right hand forgotten. I didn’t just say that. I didn’t just say that! “I—I mean…I” I struggle for words to take everything back, but they don’t come. My mouth just opens and closes uselessly, like a fish out of water.

“Forget I said anything.” I snarl suddenly, jerking forward, trying to intimidate him. I stare him hard in the eyes, just inches away from my own. “If you even mention anything to Trogon I swear I will kick the shit out of you, forget Freighter.” I bare my teeth. Fuck, I’m going to get chewed out by Freighter… “Trogon’s story has little to no happiness in it, alright? She doesn’t need someone else who can hurt her. If you mean it when you say you ‘like’ her, then walk away now. Let her go on living as she has been: alone. She doesn’t need to have another Alice episode.”

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[Deleted]

Oh, what a wonderful
Caricature of intimacy.

Again, I find myself shocked that someone as tiny as Trogon can call up so much strength. The darkening bruise on my cheek and now a spectacularly bloody lip are proof of this unexpected fact, making me look like I just got out of a fight with a burly guy rather than a waifish looking girl that doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly. I wonder how the kids at the group home can bully her so much when she can throw a punch better than most guys I know. Through the stars exploding across my line of vision, I distantly muse that she could probably take Trace or one of the bigger kids from the home on with one hand tied behind her back. Then again, I’m a wimp; It probably isn’t that hard to put me out of a fight.

Mumbling out a slurred stream of profanities that stumble over my rapidly swelling lip and only make it bleed more intensely, I spit out a mouthful of red and glare up at Trigger, who’s been standing there the whole time hurling a never-ending barrage of insults and hurtful words. "You know, I’m not sure who I dislike more, you or Morrigan."

I suppose that she thinks her simpering false sympathy about the story behind my burn scars will make me so mad that I storm off in a huff (I almost do, but decide that I don’t want to give her the satisfaction), and her smirk is beyond obnoxious as that voice that is Trogon’s and yet isn’t spreads more poison around the clearing. "You really think that getting burned is on the same level as getting tortured and sexually assaulted by your own—"

We both stop short, her eyes widening in terror as her hands clap over her mouth. She’s said too much, and we both know it. There’s a moment where she sputters and tries to be her old intimidating self, all over-inflated threats and icy glares until she gives me an ultimatum that I could never, ever agree to. "Trogon’s story has little to no happiness in it, alright? She doesn’t need someone else who can hurt her. If you mean it when you say you ‘like’ her, then walk away now. Let her go on living as she has been: alone. She doesn’t need to have another Alice episode. "

"No, I’m not walking away from this!" I snarl back at her, fists clenched. "The last time I didn’t try to help, people died. My family died. I don’t give a shit if you and Freighter and Morrigan try to make my life a living hell, I’m not going to let Trogon deal with this alone. Maybe she shouldn’t remember her childhood; what little I’ve heard sounds awful. But she doesn’t deserve to have her mind and body be outside of her control."

I think of all the times where I've backed down from the things that really mattered. I wasted precious minutes thinking about myself the night of the fire, struggling to decide whether to run back into the house. If I'd have just done it, Mom and Lydia would still be alive. I never stood up for my sister when the kids at school picked on her for being shy, because I was too averse to the conflict it may have started. I've never defended Jessa when people are cruel to her just because she thinks a little differently. Not for the first time, I acknowledge that I may be more than a little self-centered. I've let everyone in my life down, and I'm tired of it.

It’s so weird, feeling my voice raise and my face heat up. Anger isn’t an emotion that I’m used to, or one that I like. I’ve always been the funny, good-natured guy that cheers people up when they’re down and calms people down when they’re upset, and now I’ve been put into the position that I’m usually charged with fixing. Throughout my entire rant there’s a bizarre surrealistic fog surrounding my thoughts. Why am I yelling? I never yell. Why do I feel so… defensive?

"I don’t want to see her hurt. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. And the shit she deals with now is hurting her, whether you believe it or not. No one should have to wake up and wonder what they’ve been doing. No one should have to feel isolated like she does. I don’t know who Alice is or what happened with her, but I’m telling you, I’m not her. And I’m not leaving."

I know that I probably don’t look like the strongest person in the world, a scrawny, gangly kid with no bulk and a bloody lip, but there’s something inside that changes when I fling these words in Trigger’s direction. My whole life, I’ve always taken the path that led away from conflict, even if it wasn’t the right thing in the long run. I have never liked fighting. I still don’t. It’s just that now, there’s a stubborn edge in me that makes me ready to go toe to toe with all the monsters and bad guys out there, even though I know I can’t possibly win. For the first time, I am willing to fight.

And as I look at Trogon’s overtaken form, I realize that it’s because I’ve finally found something worth fighting for.

((Short and terrible DDD: Sorry.))